


Just once

by operationmycroft



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Drug Use, M/M, Sibling Incest, holmescest, mycroft gets high, yay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-26
Updated: 2014-02-26
Packaged: 2018-01-13 20:41:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1240108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/operationmycroft/pseuds/operationmycroft
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock was already high when Mycroft found him. “I promise I'll get clean if you try it once, just once.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just once

**Author's Note:**

> Haha I'm sorry I have no clue what the fuck this is but I tried. I just really wanted Mycroft to get high. *sigh* Sorry if it's awful.

Sherlock was already high when Mycroft found him. Mycroft looked very out of place even though he had dressed down for the occasion. Rushing between the other bodies of people immobile and intoxicated. _How did this place escape the radar?_ Mycroft berated himself as he knelt down to check on Sherlock. His heart rate betraying the calm, calculated movements to check pulse, breath strength and any other injuries to have befallen his brother. _Cocaine or Heroin?_ His brain ran a quick assessment. _Cocaine (benzoylmethylecgonine)._ Sherlock himself was in a state of sleeping but his eyes fluttered when Mycroft picked up his thin frame and carried him to his car. For a moment he wished that he had used one of the government cars so he could stay with him but dismissed it remembering the last time he brought anyone else.

Sherlock had escaped his sight for 42 hours which meant people where going to get fired. Sherlock had left uni in desperation and was out on the streets almost instantly. The car pulled up to his own flat again following the routine that he wished never existed. He walked around to the other side.

“Oh. Mycroft.” Sherlock’s voice sounds different without it’s usual mocking tone. Mycroft knows he was in a world of his own, a world he can’t imagine. When Sherlock was high he was exceedingly brilliant, perhaps as smart as his elder brother.

“Sherlock.” Mycroft answers, his brother’s name is loaded with worry and question, he doesn't even bother to hide it. They made it up to the bedroom and Sherlock colaptes on the bed. Mycroft sits near by,

“How much? Should I be worried?”

“You're always worried. Not much, I’ll be fine.” Mycroft had already determined that it was the seven percent solution most likely in a half dosage. After a pause Sherlock’s thin fingers reach over to where his brothers are resting. He traces the bones and veins. Mycroft refuses to respond.

“You know this is all your fault.” Sherlock says sharply, his words aiming to wound. Mycroft flinches because he knows it’s true.

“You refused me.”

“You were seventeen. Underage.” _Illegal_. Mycroft interrupts.

“And then I wasn’t.” _And you still left me._ They were stating the obvious again, having the same conversation in a different way.

“It’s still illegal.” _I can’t, it will never end well. Whatever we do._ The law itself mattered very little to him.

“The marijuana didn't work, so I tried morphine and then cocaine and heroin but none of them had the same effect on me as you do.” The familiar heavy guilt settles on Mycroft’s shoulders.

“I’m sorry.” And he was. After a few minutes of silence Sherlock says something off-script.

“You still don't understand what I did for you. To have you.” He looked into Mycroft’s eyes, pupils blown. “I promise I'll get clean if you try it once, just once.”  _You will understand._

Mycroft had long dropped his mask around his brother knowing that most of the time he could see through it so with this statement an actual expression of surprise crossed his face. Sherlock knew Mycroft would have given anything to get him ‘back on track’ so the conclusion was intentious. Without a word the brothers began. Sherlock’s thin fingers grasped a small but clean medical needle, no doubt stolen from the classroom.

“Sherlock--” _Can_   _you keep your promise?_

“Yes, I swear.” The younger replied, answering the unspoken question. Sherlock can almost feel Mycroft’s fear. The hardest thing for him was letting go of control.

“Against the backboard.” Sherlock’s voice husky, pulling out the powder from his other pocket. “Stay here.”

Sherlock made his way into the bathroom where he makes the solution. Flicking the syringe, he came back out to find Mycroft’s red hair slightly out of order and his right sleeve already rolled up. He was leaned against the backboard of the bed, legs out, head back. Sherlock smiles. He walked over and kneels between his brother's legs, picking up his arm he found the vain.

“I promise. I promise.” _I love you._ Sherlock whispered like a prayer. Mycroft looked up, meeting Sherlock’s eyes.  _I'm trusting you._ The needle slid in and Sherlock efficiently injected the narcotic into his brother’s untouchable blood. A single drop of leaked out and Sherlock brought his mouth to it. Mycroft gasped, Sherlock’s mouth was like fire. A tidal wave of thoughts, observations and deductions hit Mycroft with such force he stopped breathing. He let the breath out, and an enormous stream of conscience ran faster than he had ever possessed information. He knew, he understood. Mycroft looked at Sherlock and knew every intention. _Sherlock had loved him like this, needed him._ Sherlock was moving too slowly. Mycroft grabbed the raven curls and crushed their mouths together. _Relief._ Mycroft who had suppressed his feelings for so long and Sherlock who had thought he would never be enough.Their hands find each others bodies. There was no denying it now: Mycroft Holmes was in love with his brother and they were in another world, all to their own.


End file.
